


Rather Forget

by hilaryfaye



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/F, Genderbending, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilaryfaye/pseuds/hilaryfaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was afraid, and understandably so. It was easier to believe that you had always been fear, than to realize that perhaps once, you had been something more. Would anyone want to wake up one day, and realize that they had once been something truly great, but now were little more than a shadow?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rather Forget

Dawn was too close to make Pitch comfortable. She wasn’t crippled by the light as she had once been, but she still preferred to keep to the shadows. Morning was no time for her. She had spent centuries chasing the shadows, running westward as the sun crept up in the east, keeping to the darkness. 

Tonight, however, she lingered.

Her hair curled around her like smoke as she waited, plucking at her robes in boredom. When was that woman ever on time? Sandy was too fond of late sleepers and daydreamers. She should have kept to the night with Pitch, where she belonged.

It wasn’t fair that Sandy should have both the day and night at her disposal. 

Pitch watched the far horizon beginning to brighten and bared her teeth.  Where was she?

Finally, she spied the little golden ship coming through the sky. Pitch swung up on the back of the Nightmare, galloping through the sky to meet it.

Sandy captained her little ship, wispy gold hair caught in a breeze. She saw Pitch coming, and slowed the ship. The Nightmare landed with a thud on the golden decks, though it pawed and snorted uneasily at being so close to so much dream sand.  Pitch leapt off, towering over the little dream guardian. 

“You took your time.”

Sandy shrugged. She smiled at Pitch, steering the ship towards the dark horizon. Pitch looked at the clouds covering the moon, and smiled. Can’t spy on me now, can you, old friend?

She sent the Nightmare away, intending to enjoy this evening in privacy. It was not often they had the opportunity to meet—since the incident with Frost, the other Guardians had been especially vigilant. They couldn’t have known that Pitch had never really harmed Sandy… only put her aside, for a while. Pitch Black was capable of many things… but cruelty towards Sandy wasn’t one of them. 

Sandy had spent that time in a dreamless sleep, and would have slept the entire battle through had not the incident in Burgess occurred. Pitch would have preferred that. Despite the many things Sandy willingly overlooked, they both knew she could not and would not overlook what Pitch had been doing then. Sandy’s retaliation against Pitch had been more out of necessity than any anger.

Much had to be overlooked and forgiven. Perhaps forgiven was the wrong word… they were too old and too familiar with each other to be unaware of the other’s nature. 

Sandy let the ship steer itself, and joined Pitch at the rail. A question mark formed over the little woman’s head. 

“I’ve been as well as I can be, under the circumstances.” It had been rough, patching herself back together after fighting free of her own Nightmares. They had nearly killed her, but she would not say that to Sandy. She didn’t need to know, and if she did, she didn’t need the guilt. 

Pitch was no fool… it had been her own mistakes that had driven her underground. Mistakes she would not make again.

But that wasn’t why she had returned. “Sandra,” she said, “I’ve… been having dreams. More like memories, but they’re preposterous.” 

Sandy looked at her, an eyebrow raised.

“You don’t know anything about them?” Pitch asked, startled. “But… if anyone…” She sat, not quite sure how to process this. “I don’t know what they are, Sandra but they seem familiar.”

Sandy sat down, patting Pitch’s knee. Tell me.

“They’re ridiculous.”

Sandy waited.

Pitch sighed, rubbing her temples, as if the thought of them alone gave her a headache. “I was in armor, like I was some kind of soldier. There was a boy… a little boy. I think he was my son.” She stood, pacing. “But it’s madness, I was never a soldier, and I certainly never had a child.” 

Sandy looked away, and Pitch’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Sandy conjured an image of a soldier.

“Yes, that was what I looked like in the dream I—” Pitch stopped, deciphering the series of dream sand symbols over Sandy’s head. “You’re mad.”

Sandy shook her head. You don’t remember.

“I am no soldier, I’m no mother!” Pitch was scowled, and jerked back from Sandy’s extended hand. “No, I was never that.”

Sandy looked sad, and conjured a last image.

“What do you mean we were friends then? Sandra that wasn’t me.” Pitch hugged herself against a sudden chill. “I was not a hero.”

Sandy let it drop, and went back to steer.

“Sandra…”

Sandy looked up, as if nothing had happened, which only irritated Pitch more. “Well don’t be that way simply because I said something that you don’t want to hear.”

Sandy frowned. Well that’s rich, coming from you. 

Pitch turned, her arms folded over her chest. “Fine then, if you must. Perhaps I shall return home.”

Sandy gave a sort of soft sigh. She floated over to Pitch, putting a small hand on her shoulder. Don’t be that way.

Pitch bowed her head, hiding her face with her hair. “I never had a son.” She wouldn’t believe it, she refused to. If it was true—which it wasn’t—that would mean she had spent the last few thousand years not remembering. What else did she not remember?

A child would mean there’d been a father. Being a soldier would have meant there were people she knew, brothers and sisters in arms that she lost. 

No, that hadn’t been her—none of that had happened. They were only strange dreams that tormented her.

Weren’t they?

Sandy pulled her face up, kissing Pitch’s forehead. Sandy had worried about Pitch for too long. The fear had been eating at her for centuries, but it seemed something might be breaking through. Perhaps the person she had been had not been entirely forgotten.

“I don’t want to remember, Sandra.”

She was afraid, and understandably so. It was easier to believe that you had always been fear, than to realize that perhaps once, you had been something more. Would anyone want to wake up one day, and realize that they had once been something truly great, but now were little more than a shadow? No, Sandy knew why Pitch didn’t want to remember.

Pitch rested her head on Sandy’s shoulder, closing her eyes. “It’s easier to be alone.”

Sandy stroked her hair, an old sadness furrowed against her heart. Somewhere buried under Pitch Black, as an even older friend of Sandy’s—if only Pitch would let her out. 

Pitch raised a hand, snapping her fingers. The Nightmare came galloping back through the winds. “Spread your good dreams, Sandra.  I’ll be away.”

Sandy reached for Pitch, asking her to wait—but the Nightmare Queen either didn’t see, or pretended not to. She leapt from the dream ship onto the back of the Nightmare, and disappeared into the night. 

Sandy watched her go, a shadow blacker than even the night. She wrung her hands together, letting the sadness ache just a little while longer.

Somewhere under there was Kozmota Pitchiner, struggling to reclaim herself.


End file.
